The Talisman
by FunnyLover13
Summary: Johnathan was a man of logic; he never believed in any of his father's silly curses. But...what will he do when one comes knocking on his door? (Original Story)
1. Curses Aren't Real

**The Talisman  
****Rated T**

**Disclaimer: The characters and story do, in fact, belong to me. Please do not try to steal said creation for your own. Instead, read it and have a good time doing so.**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Johnathan was a man of logic. Contrasting his father's beliefs, which, to him, were of nonsense and childish fears, he never believed in silly curses; in fact, he thought they were pathetic fears, created from the overactive imagination. In his youth, he'd roll his eyes, staring pitifully as his father, a rather superstitious, anxious man, would hang talismans upon talismans around the house. His mother kept quiet, letting her husband have his protection, but Johnathan would silently judge him, seeing only an old fool naively wasting his life away in fear. His face would be a look of weakness, blatantly hammering away to tack talismans in place, muttering softly with a throaty croak:

_"This will protect us...this will protect us..."_

Then his father would gaze at him, peering into his soul with crazed, delusional eyes.

_"This will protect you, Johnathan...this is all for your protection."_

...Johnathan would not be like his father.

He still remembered his father's warnings, which were filled with shaken fear and hysteria.

"Don't **ever** take this talisman down. This will protect you from **HER**. It will keep **HER** from taking you away, Johnathan."

Johnathan never found out who this **"HER"** was, but apparently, something lurked in the forest that had many neighbors bringing their children in earlier. It was something that certainly had his father terrified. That was long alone, but he still remembered like it was yesterday; nevertheless, having studied at Harvard for a doctoring degree, the young man couldn't afford to worry himself about silly curses. He distanced himself from his father out of sheer embarrassment, speaking only to his mother when keeping tabs on their well-being or to express words of love. That woman was truly a saint to put up with that ignorant, fear-blinded man. The next time Johnathan spoke to his mother, she told him they'd be vacationing to Hawaii for the year, asking if he would be so kind to house-sit for them.

The young man agreed, driving up the next week.

* * *

His parents and he had lived in a particularly odd area; the town, consisting of small general stores and a school, was a good hour away by car, and the neighborhoods were spread out for a few miles. The path to his parents' house was long and narrow, overshadowed by rotten oak trees as the house, which was old and rotting itself, laid ahead, big but oddly ominous, standing upon a small hill surrounded by a decaying forest of oak trees. He rode along the path, grunting as each bump and pothole could potentially puncture a tire; passing by, Johnathan noticed that the other houses nearby, which were yards away, were vacant. Everyone seem to have moved away since he left, which meant his parents had been left alone in the middle of no-where.

Now he would be left in the middle of no-where too.

"Perfect. Just perfect." Johnathan all but sighed.

Walking into the house, he cursed while tripping over the family's cat, who gave his own growl of annoyance. Looking up, the young man sighed begrudgingly, seeing those blasted talismans hang innocently around the house and fluttering in the occasional breeze from the window. Staring at those pieces of paper, he began to feel that familiar resentment.

**"This is all for your protection, Johnathan..."**

Hearing his father's pathetic voice, he became caught up in the moment, and soon Johnathan wasted no time tearing them down. One by one, each talisman fell to the ground like soft, fluffy snow in the countryside. The air filled with ripping sounds, clean but rough noises that released the disdain Johnathan felt for his father and his blasted curses.

All that was left was one lone talisman.

Tacked in the middle of the house, hanging high over the living room like a lookout, it stared down at Johnathan mockingly. It was that same talisman he remembered particularly in his youth, seeing the old man replace it constantly and hammering it over and over and over:

The same one that was supposed to keep _**HER**_ away.

With an annoyed grumble, he reached up, quickly and roughly, snatching it away and ripping it to shreds.

His father was a fool...there was so such thing as silly curses...

* * *

**End of Chapter 1**


	2. That Little Girl

**Chapter 2**

It was an unnerving surprise, early the next morning, when Johnathan would leave his house and see a young girl staring at him from the forest entrance. She stood at a small height, petite and fragile, gazing disturbingly back at him from between two large, oak trees. He noticed she didn't move, standing stiff like a statue and just staring directly at him; for a moment, he thought she really _was_ a statue until she blinked.

It was unsettling to say the least.

Of course, being a man of logic, Johnathan dismissed it as a childish prank. The nearest neighborhood was almost 5 miles away, but that didn't stop children from trying to be mischievous.

"It's a simple childish prank." He had to remind himself, walking to his car to drive down town.

"She'll leave when she gets bored."

...She still stood there at nightfall

* * *

Weeks at this parents' house were slowly becoming bizarre. Every day, when he awoke, Johnathan would see that same girl staring out from the forest entrance, looking cold and motionless. To and from his car, he'd feel his heart beat faster as she stared. Occasionally, he'd look from the corner of his eye, and the small girl would stare right back; through long, mangled hair, purple orbs flashed almost dangerously and darkly. Craning her neck slowly, eyes wide like an owl's, the girl slowly followed his movements, which became more rushed as he entered his car.

He watched her, and she watched him; this continued as he drove away, becoming almost like a standoff. Then, when he would come back, she would be there, staring from the darkness of the forest, and standing still like a dirtied, grotesque statue. It never crossed his mind to ask her why she was there, and, as a man of logic, that should have been the most rational thing to do. But lately, Johnathan wasn't thinking logically; in fact, as an unfamiliar fear started to build up, the young man began to realize that he was acting like his father, the foolish, feeble man he loathed as a child.

Slamming his beer on the living-room table, cursing his thoughts, Johnathan looked out to the forest, seeing that girl, and sneered deeply at himself.

"This is ridiculous!" He grunted, retiring to bed.

"If she wants to stand in the cold, that's her business! There's nothing to be scared of!"

* * *

...The cat had disappeared.

That old feline lingered around the house for years, an unexpected house guest that Johnathan grew to tolerate. Now, he grew worried; for the past few days, he didn't find himself tripping over the fat cat's body or waking up to the scratchy song of his feline people. As annoying as that fleabag was, that cat was the only thing left fending off the young man's paranoia.

It was nearing midnight now, and he still hadn't seen any trace of him.

Sighing, getting wary of the dead silence, Johnathan walked to the door to go find him and opened it to see that little girl, a sudden shock that rendered him speechless. She was closer now, standing, almost leaning, against the old oak tree yards from the fence. It used to have a tire swing there, which Johnathan played on under the watchful eye of his father. Now, only a torn rope was hung there like a noose, dangling, dreadfully slow, now that she stood there. Her mangled, long, black hair draped over her face, which created a strangely eerie feeling in his stomach. And, in the background, the forest seems to grow darker and suffocating.

The entire scene was uncomfortable in his eyes.

Stepping from the porch and coming closer, he noticed her eyes were darker, almost like crimson; that change in her stare alone stopped him feet away from her, regarding her with wariness. A silence fell over them, breaking only when the summer wind rustled through the decaying forest. The young girl stared back, large, purple eyes seemingly glowing in the night.

"...What do you want?" He finally asked, frowning agitatedly to mask his anxiousness. "Don't your parents know you're here?"

After a while, the little girl trailed her eyes up to his face, tilting her head slowly to reveal his neck.

Johnathan saw the blood.

It was dark and muggy, dripping in thick clumps along her chin, then plopping and staining her clothes deeply.

The young man's eyes, a pair of frightened emeralds, grew wider, following the trails. Her hand, which was stained horribly, hovered over a mangled heap lying by her bare feet. The horrid smell, the pool of ugly blood seeping into the grass, and the mangled flesh sent waves of nausea to Johnathan. Stumbling back, groaning in fear, he tried not to crumble pathetically to his knees, especially in front of her.

He had found the cat.

The poor man dared to gaze at the child, who stood still, staring innocently and tilting her head to the side. A current nervous wreck, Johnathan held his breath as she opened her mouth, smiling wide. Blood slid along the smile, along with turfs of fur in-between teeth, creating a gruesome scene.

The smile was neither cute nor happy.

It created panic in his heart, a foreign feeling that rendered him both scared and confused. She took one step towards him, keeping wide unbearable eyes on his frozen form. Slowly but precisely, she pointed back at the disgusting mess, giggling darkly.

"Oh Johnathan~... I've found your kitty-cat~~"

...Johnathan turned and ran back to the house terrified.

* * *

**End of Chapter 2**

**((Welp, It looks like Johnathan is in trouble now~ Stay tuned to see what happens next X3 ))**


	3. Shit Hits the Fan

**Chapter 3**

Days passed after that night, and Johnathan hadn't left from the house. He was too petrified to leave, fearing that the girl would move towards him. Looking through the blinds, his father's shot gun in hand, Johnathan saw her standing by the tree like that night ago. Blood still caked her gray dress, and the rotting heap had disappeared, only leaving a dark patch in the grass.

More blood lingered on her chin.

Ignoring that new detail, he directed his attention to the approaching car; so did the girl, whose eyes seem to flicker with glee as an older man got out.

It was Mr. Jones, the old store clerk from town.

From the blinds, the young man saw the clerk give the girl a sideways glance, gripping the box of canned goods in his hands. Quickly, with panic, Johnathan opened the front door and pulled the man in.

"Thank God you're here, man." He exclaimed, hurriedly closing and locking the door.

"Who's that girl, son? She looks pretty sick."

"She's crazy, that's what." Johnathan retorted. "This kid pops out of nowhere, just standing outside, and watches the house."

Taking the box of canned goods gratefully, he gave a quick glance to the front door, as if it would disappear suddenly, and walked into the kitchen. The old man followed, giving the door a confused glance. His blue eyes then took to studying the small house, seeing the lack of talismans.

He had known Johnathan's father to be a rather superstitious man, having good luck charms and talismans of the likes, so it was surprising to see every single one of them taken down; yet, he said nothing, not wanting to impose. Looking back to Johnathan, Mr. Jones furrowed his eyebrows at the young man's jittery movement.

"Well come now, John. Surely she ain't got ya spooked." The old man chuckled lightly. "You're acting like your father."

"She has me horrified, Jones." Johnathan grimaced, obviously not liking the joke.

"...She ate the cat."

"...You're kidding." The old man glanced quickly towards the front, then back to Johnathan in bewilderment. The young man was not kidding, which only proved to be much more disturbing. "When did that happening?"

"I dunno, 'bout a few days ago, but she's been hanging around for a month..."

Mr. Jones pondered for a bit before getting up. "Then come with me to town. We can get help there."

Johnathan gave him a look of horror, standing up more hurriedly.

"I'm not going out there, man. That girl's not well..." He stood away towards the wall, eyeing the front door with cautious eyes.

"She's not well, and there's no way I'm going out there where she can come closer..."

Mr. Jones shook his head, helping himself to a beer from the fridge, and walking towards the door. Johnathan felt a sharp chill, staring at the man as if he was walking to death row. The old man gripped the handle, giving Johnathan a pitiful glance like he'd use to do towards the young man's father. Honestly, this superstition was inherited in this family.

"Don't be such a child, John. This is a child we're taking about. What can she do to us?" He unlocked the door and opened it.

"No!"

Walking out, Mr. Jones was startled to come face to face with the child. Standing fearfully by the door, Johnathan realized she had moved closer; now, she stood just outside the house's fence, blocking the stoned path to the cars. Immediately, he pulled the door back, wanting something to distance himself from her. She, on the other hand, smiled lightly, her head lowered almost intimidatingly.

"How rude, Johnathan~" She croaked, gazing from him to Mr. Jones menacingly. "You're playing without me?"

The sound of her soft, scratchy voice made the young man shrink back; however, the old man grunted loudly, walking up to her in annoyance. He highly doubted that she ate the cat, as Johnathan claimed. That was most likely ketchup spattered on her clothes, only playing a prank: a cruel one but a prank nonetheless. Thrusting his arm at her, Mr. Jones pointed sternly, glaring at her like a teacher would a troublesome student.

Now you see here, child." He started, his blue eyes flashing firmly. "These silly games of yours need to end!"

She stared blankly at him, her smile sinking into a frown as purple eyes swirling unnaturally in the evening light. Johnathan watched in the back, feeling cowardly yet cautious of this mysterious child. As the old man lectured her, she leaned in, staring deeper and deeper into his eyes.

Then, with a drop of her jaw, still keep eye-contact, she snatched his fingers into her teeth viciously and pulled back.

Silence suffocated them all.

No one moved in the growing darkness, and Mr. Jones only reacted from his shock when he saw the bright blood. Shaking terribly, seeing it spurt from his quivering hand, he bellowed an unearthly howl. Johnathan watched with widen eyes, his heart thumping against his chest, and his mind screaming at him to close the door and hide like a coward.

The girl, who was smiling with wide, fish-like eyes, stepped closer to the old man, highly amused by the terrified screaming. Softly touching his trembling hand, her skin cold against his own, she stared up at him with a look of derangement, letting him see his severed fingers clenched in her teeth. The old man began to whimper, for her grip became amazingly strong, keeping him in place. Leaning closer, the tiny girl opened her mouth again, letting the severed fingers drop as she closed in on his neck.

"It's not nice to be a bully, mister~" She cooed, watching his pumping jugular with predatory eyes. "You'll only get burned in the end~"

Grinning wide, showing rows of bloodied teeth, she opened her jaw wide, seeming to snap it out of place, until it chomped down on his vein. With the first shriek, Johnathan closed the door, locking it quickly and listening as Mr. Jones met his untimely demise. He trembled pathetically, his fingers digging into the wooden frame. Looking down, as the shrieks turned high-pitched and desperate, crimson leaked through the bottom, staining the soles of his shoes.

His breathing hitched.

Johnathan stepped from the door in fear, hearing the horrid screams; after a while, he heard knocking of tiny hands on the door. They only grew louder, and giggling soon joined them.

"Johnathan, come outside~ I only want to play~~"

He bolted to the back of the house, hiding under his covers like a child afraid of the boogeyman. He stayed there all night, shivering and shivering as her voice echoed in the front, repaying over and over like a broken record.

"Come out to play, Johnathan. Come out to play~"

* * *

The next day, Mr. Jones's body disappeared too.

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**End of Chapter 3**  
**(Happy New Years everyone! Get ready for more updates, more stories, and more Horror!)**


	4. Epilouge: All is Lost

**Chapter 4/Epilogue**

Weeks turned into months, and Johnathan, growing more and more paranoid, realized the girl, the nightmarish being beginning to plague his thoughts, stepped closer and closer to his parents' house. The first month, she moved from the forest entrance and to that tree; the next, she slithered towards the fence, a sinister smile slowly creeping along her cheeks. He had hoped to escape in one of the cars; but, to his terror, the girl had destroyed the engines, smiling wickedly with wires in her hands.

By the end of the year, she had Johnathan trapped, peering through the front window eagerly.

Her eyes flashed something **immoral**.

* * *

Winter had come, bringing coldness and frostbites, but to Johnathan, a man scrumming to paranoia, it was nothing compared to the icy glare of that child. Having already witness Mr. Jones's death, the poor man moved to the front room, his father's rifle, a 7-gauge double barrel, in trembling hands. Johnathan now had sagging bags under his eyes, suffering from insomnia; he was too frightened to fall asleep these days, knowing, just knowing, she'd find a way in if he did fall asleep.

He would not let that happen.

The young man loaded the gun and glanced nervously to the window. Standing behind it, her tiny hands pressed gingerly to the glass, the little girl grinned from ear to ear. Her head tilted on an awkward angle, and her eyes, wide and menacing, stared into his soul. Her smile deepened sickeningly, looking cartoonish and oh so wrong.

"Johnathan..." The little girl crooned softly, running spider-like fingers down the frost-bite glass. "Let me in, Johnathan~."

She pounded on the glass, keeping that dark smile on her face; he stepped back only slightly, staring with trembling hands. The little girl pounded harder on the glass, her smile, which was of bloodied teeth grinding together, almost splitting her cheeks. The glass, although strong and thick, seemed to bend to her will, making Johnathan worried that she would break through.

The girl only banged harder.

"Let me in, Johnathan~~" A giggle slipped from her mouth, along with a demonic, low voice. "LET ME IN~"

Johnathan took aim, shaking where he stood, looking like a desperate man taking a last stand. The banging grew louder and louder, and his breathing grew shorter and shorter. But he had to remain calm and sane. He...He was a man of logic.

"Stay calm...you have an advantage..." The young man whispered to himself.

There were 8 bullets in the gun.

But that would be enough to take the girl out; it had to be enough.

Johnathan had hoped it wouldn't come to this, killing this child. But, as he had realized horribly, she wasn't right.

She wasn't harmless.

He leveled the double-barrel between her eyes, trying to look intimidating. Yet, it seemed to him that she laughed in his face, banging the glass harder and harder with more force.

"Stay back..." The young man warned, his finger squeezing the trigger lightly. "I-I'm warning you..."

"Johnathan~"

She knocked harder, and the window cracked suddenly.

Hearing that echoing crunch of the glass, Johnathan pulled the trigger, firing wildly at the child, shattering the glass completely. Her smile only faltered slightly as a bullet smacked dead between her eyes; her body snapped back, blood bursting forth in a gush and flowing gently as she soared from the porch.

A soft thud echoed outside and silence fell suddenly.

Breathing harshly, gripping the shotgun tightly, Johnathan gave a throaty chuckle, a panicked, relieved sound that suddenly sent waves of comfort through his body. The winter wind blew through the broken window, running along his sweaty, shaken face; nevertheless, he smiled, the adrenaline slowing down and his heart beating softer now. Closing his eyes, finally at peace, Johnathan made a move to fix the house up before his parents arrived.

...A giggle slipped through the winter air.

He paused, gripping the shotgun in his hand, and his heart dropped; looking back hurriedly, disbelieve flooding his mind along with panic, Johnathan watched as the little girl got up. Her body was bent back, legs rising slowly as the rest of her followed like a rag doll. Straightening up, bright crimson staining her dress and face, she stared back at him. Blood leaked down her forehead like a faucet, shining sickeningly against her pale skin.

She smiled wide but didn't show teeth; a disgusting redness slipped from her nose and mouth, making a puddle under her chin.

"Johnathan..." She crooned playfully, her voice taking on darker tones. "That wasn't very nice~~"

He ran down the hall.

* * *

Johnathan was a man of logic, and at that moment, being logical meant being a coward. He could hear the sound of the window shattering, letting more of the winter air slip through. He lunged towards the back room, his parents' room, and closed the door shut. The sound of footsteps echoed throughout the house, which made him frantically reload the gun; he breathed harshly, eyes widen desperately, as he struggled to load the bullets steadily.

This wasn't right.

She should've been dead; that blasted child should've been dead!

"Why..." He whispered shakily, looking to the closed door with fear. "Why is she here...?"

Nothing could be heard behind the door.

He tried to calm his heart, which rapidly beat with anxiousness. The house phone rang suddenly; answering it shakily, Johnathan heard his father's gruff voice on the other end.

The sounds of footsteps started, becoming rushed and eager.

"Hey son", His father replied lightly merriment in his voice. "How's the house coming along?"

"Papa..." Johnathan whispered, standing up slowly with rifle in hand. "There's a little girl here..."

Slowly, low giggling bellowed, increasing to a high, amused crackling that pierced Johnathan's heart. The old man heard from the other end, hearing his son whimpering as well, which grew more meek and panicked.

"She's been standing by the house the whole year. S-She ate the cat and Mr. Jones. S-She won't leave. She has me trapped!"

"...The talismans."

Johnathan frowned at his father's voice, feeling resentment linger in his feelings of fright.

"Are the talismans hanging up?"

"What does that have to do with—?"

"_ARE_ the talismans hanging up?!"

"...No."

One solid bang caused the wooden door to crack. As she knocked harder, the little girl's giggling pierced the room, turning lower, demonically, and insane. A hand snaked through the wood, long, creepy fingers stretching towards the knob.

"Do you realize what you've **done**?!" His father yelled, sounding more frightened than Johnathan has been for the past year.

The knob twisted.

The door, having crept to life, let the nighttime light crawl along the wooden floor, and the wind, blowing stronger, brushed up his back. Johnathan's heart froze, feeling her presence behind him.

"That talisman was there to protect us...to protect _you_!"

The squeaking of the wooden floor bounced off his ear, and the giggling hushed, letting silence take over.

"That child is a—" The phone cut off.

Johnathan slowly looked into his mother's vanity mirror and saw her standing there, grinning impossibly wide; peering over his shoulder, he saw her gripping his shirt, staring back at him playfully. Shadows seeped into the room, creeping around him and along his legs, grabbing and pulling, dragging him to a horrid fate.

"Johnathan~~" Her voice uttered a dark whisper as the darkness seeped closer and along her tiny body, creating a putrid odor.

"Let's play..."

Johnathan felt a cold numbness and dropped the phone.

* * *

**THE END**


End file.
